*Names changed to protect identities.

I CANNOT IMAGINE the shock felt by Ling* when she arrived back at her staff quarters, and was greeted by refugees also taking shelter in the same lodging. She had only been away for approximately one week. As one who teaches refugee children for a living, she didn’t think she had the mental capacity to share her living space with them too. Most of the staff were packing to leave for another staff house, citing the need for privacy—she decided to do the same, but changed her mind after one of the girls held her hand and said, “Teacher, can you please stay with me because I have no one to stay with me.”

That was five years ago. Today, the house is a shelter for high-risk refugees. It is a refuge for single mothers, children and teens who are recovering from physical and sexual abuse. For Ling, it was a segue from her full-time teaching to her calling—helping refugees.

“I don’t really like to teach, but it was one of the tools to reach out to them, to know more about them and to care for them. I still teach once a week,” Ling said. She was teaching Afghanistan students in Ampang, and Myanmarese and Pakistani students in Klang under ElShaddai Centre, a Christian-based humanitarian NGO affiliated with UNHCR that helps displaced and marginalised communities such as refugees, asylum-seekers, stateless people and other marginalised diaspora communities in Malaysia. Their main focus is to provide educational opportunities from preschool to high school, so that all children have a fair chance at education.

At the time, there was an influx of refugees in the country, and children who had been abused and left homeless had nowhere to go—then there was the looming Covid-19 that had just started to extend its tendrils.

Shelter Schedule

Ling got to work almost immediately after going through some adjustments regarding work responsibilities. She decided to head the shelter—which also meant living in the shelter. Thankfully, the organisation was flexible and supported her needs.

Its first occupants were an Iranian single mother and her two children—they were chased out by their landlord. Another was a Myanmarese girl who had run away from her forced marriage. The police found her and sent her to UNHCR, which then referred her to ElShaddai Centre. Slowly, they expanded from one to three shelters—one Rohingya shelter with nine residents, a mixed single mothers shelter with six residents and another for girls (children and teens) with 13 residents.

Ling is helped by two house guardians, Rhea and Anne. They reside in the shelter with the children and teens. Ling and Rhea serve as life coaches and Anne is a counsellor.

All children living in the shelter follow a daily schedule. The schedule for mothers are more flexible.

Weekday mornings begin at 6.30AM—the children wake up to shower, get dressed and have their breakfast. At 7.30AM, a van picks them up for school (ElShaddai Learning Centre). There are four types of learning centres provided: preschool, primary (Cambridge IGCSE), secondary (Cambridge IGCSE) and accelerated (for those aged 10+ without prior education to complete preschool and primary school in four years). The centre has also included additional subjects to fit the needs of the students. For high schoolers, there are lessons on Global Perspective, and Peace and Diversity. For those aged 9 to 18, there is also a subject on Leaderonomics.

While the children are in school, either Ling, Rhea or Anne does grocery shopping. The mothers then cook lunch for everyone. By 1PM, the children are back from school. After lunch and shower, all the children would complete their homework, do their revision—and if time permits, take a nap. The teens are rostered to cook dinner. Once dinner is done, everyone has to clean up before enjoying some free time. It is during this period that those involved in high-risk cases can get their phones to make needed phone calls. At around 9.30PM, they would have a sharing session before lights-off at 10.30PM.

Between Work and Me Time

From dawn to dusk and the hours following it, the three young matrons would busy themselves with the inhabitants. More often than not, Ling is roped in to settle conflicts between the mothers. “There is not much problem with the girls—the kids or teens. Issues always arise between the single mothers because all of them have different perspectives—they have not learnt to be tolerant, so to speak. One of the biggest disagreements stem from cooking. Most of them cook rice, but they can’t agree on what time to cook and how much to cook,” she sighed.

“These disagreements also occur because the older mothers think themselves superior to younger mothers, but we work well with younger mothers because they usually can speak English. They also argue about how to care for children. It is difficult, but we have now started group counselling—hopefully it can help them accept and understand each other,” Rhea added.

Anne, the in-home counsellor, spends a significant amount of time doing one-on-one counselling with those who have experienced trauma. Sometimes, she works with counsellors and lawyers affiliated with the Centre. “Some of them, they have to go to court. We have to prepare them for their court hearing, or when they have to testify—we need to train them on how to speak so their case can progress.”

After a long day, all three would write reports to send to the Centre, the different NGOs concerned and UNHCR. However, despite their morning-to-night responsibilities, they do take time off to decompress.

“My me time is when I go back to my room and sleep. During weekends, we do go out to have a good meal—plus we do a silent retreat once a year. It is then that we can get away from the shelter, keep silent and just focus on resting,” Ling smiled. Rhea covets her alone time—“I’ll go watch a movie by myself, sometimes in the middle of the day for a few hours. I am also a night owl, and after a long day of dealing with conflict, I like to complete the administration work in silence, after everyone has gone to bed.” Unlike Rhea, Anne dislikes being alone, so playtime with the younger children or a short nap is enough to energise her.

A Fulfilling Calling

The shelter is transient, a revolving door of comings and goings. Those who enter stay for a few months to a year, and if they are involved in more complicated cases, their stay may drag on for two years or more.

Nevertheless, the house guardians are dedicated to the emotional restoration and physical relocation of all who stop by.

“We always hope that they can re-join their family, or for their court case to be over within one year, but for special cases, especially if they are not ready, we will not force them. We have a resident who has been staying with us for three years, but hers is a special case because it is not safe for her to go back to her community,” Anne explained.

“There was a case where a girl was raped by her neighbour, and the case was brought to court. Her mother and the inspector were very cooperative. Within six months, her case was closed and the predator was given jail time and lashes. All we had to do was to help her through her trauma and prepare her mentally for a reunion with her family,” she said, adding that reunions are what makes her job fulfilling. “When they come to the shelter, they treat themselves as a victim—and rightly so—but after coming alongside them and processing their horrors with them, they are able to forgive, accept their past and move on. They know that this is not forever and they know how to grow from it.”

Ling is also particularly encouraged when the girls take up leadership in the shelter. “Some take the initiative to welcome new people and even plan activities for those living here. We don’t always have the energy to socialise, but seeing them empowered to take responsibility really makes me very proud.”

A Pressing Need

As Malaysia is not party to the 1951 Refugee Convention or the 1967 Protocol, there is no way that UNHCR can help solve the issues of refugees in the country. Therefore, they enlist the help of ElShaddai Centre. Right now, 50% of those in the shelter are UNHCR referrals, and another 50% are from other NGOs like Women’s Aid Organisation (WAO), HOST International and Persatuan Kebajikan Suara Kanak-Kanak Malaysia (SUKA). They also have partnerships with a family therapy centre, a mobile clinic doctor and other volunteers, mostly from churches around the area. However, there is a pressing need for more shelters and workers as they are now working at maximum capacity.

Much of the problems within their community stem from their culture. As females, they do not have the right to education—they are ingrained to think that they are supposed to stay at home and wait to be married. Many who arrive undocumented cannot secure jobs, always living in fear that they might be caught by the Malaysian immigration. Due to stress, men often lash out at their wives, both physically and verbally. According to Anne, they do not have the awareness of what abuse is and that abuse is wrong. By the time they are referred to the Centre, the issue would have evolved to be very severe.

The refugee community here also view children as their hope. Therefore, they are either given into marriage when they get their menses, which is too young, and are encouraged to have more children. It is a vicious cycle fed by fear and persecution, both from within and outside their community.

Ling, Rhea and Anne are just three individuals doing their best to recourse the life of the undocumented and abused. Akin to throwing starfish into the sea from a shore laden with them, they are telling themselves, “at least, that is one life saved”.